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Jake Morgan
|name=Jake Alexander Morgan |sex=Male |species= |dob=20th |mob=7 |yob=2002 |age=Teenager |facs=None |birthplace=Oceanside, CA |height=4'10" |build=Slender |hair=Charcoal |eyes=Green |skin=White |actor=Asa Butterfield |music= }}Overview= A young immortal, still trying to find his place in this strange and suddenly unfamiliar world. An orphan with nowhere to go, he wants to make himself useful and make the most of life. Personality Jake is a kid that is no stranger to tragedy, and has a tendency to take most things into his stride. While his life so far has been far from perfect, he's far too optimistic to let it change him much. As with all kids his age, Jake only wants a few things out of life and on the whole tends to get them. He looks for stability, safety, comfort, and to have fun whenever he can. On the whole, Jake is a happy kid, with occasional bouts of melancholy that he tries to suppress as soon as they manifest. He is, however, always on the lookout for friends because he's very confused about what has happened to him. He's not the type to let bullies walk over him, but is sensible enough to know when discretion is the better part of valor. Few things will get him truly angry, but messing with his friends will do it. And a truly angry Jake can be hazardous to your healthy. He's not the least bit interested in dueling other Immortals. He tends to be chirpy, chatty, friendly, a bit sarcastic and perhaps a little bit too trusting. |-| Sheet= SKILLS POWERS ADVANTAGES WEAKNESSES |-| Background= Universal Irony I'm pretty sure that everything that's happened to me can be traced back to a single incident in Afghanistan. Probably anyway. Was dad like me? I don't know, and I'll never know for sure, but I digress. I was born in a nice little town in California called Oceanside, late July 2002. Dad was a marine out of Pendleton, and my parents had settled down in town because it was so close by. And because it's a pretty nice place to live in, I guess. I don't know what went wrong, nobody ever told me, but mom died giving birth to me. Dad was deployed at the time, all the way on the other side of the world for Operation Enduring Freedom. When they heard about what happened to mom, they let him come back to the States, which was pretty cool of them, I guess. Except, of course, he never made it back. His Chinook was shot down over Helmand while he was on his way back, no survivors. Grandma gave me his dogtags when I was seven, and I still wear them. He was called Samuel Alexander Morgan, so they named me Jake Alexander Morgan in his name. Sam, with S A M as his initials, shot down by a Surface to Air Missile, a SAM... ironic, isn't it? Sometimes I picture dad the way I saw him on some of his old pictures, with this goofy grin on his face, scratching his hair and telling me that this sorta thing could only really ever happen to him. They were good people, mom and dad, that's what everyone always tells me. Just wish I'd have gotten to know them. In Loco Parentis Now, a lot of kids like me end up in foster homes or worse, an orphanage somewhere. I got lucky because grandpa and grandma didn't mind taking care of me, even if they lived all the way over in Chicago. But, you know, on the whole it wasn't that bad. It took me a while to find out they were my grandparents, and for really young me that was as confusing as you can imagine. But over the years, bit by bit, I got told about what happened, and who mom and dad were and all those things. It wasn't that bad, actually. It's hard to feel sad or miss someone if you've never really known them. Gramps and Granny never pretended they were my parents either, even when I was very young, and I loved them for that. Of course they were a bit old while I was growing up, but they always tried to be modern about things as they called it. Even if I got to grow up in a small house in Chicago rather than a bigger house in sunny California, things were still pretty good. All in all, it could have been worse. Turnpikes and Crossroads Things got weird after I turned ten. I'd gotten used to living in Chicago, and having grandparents for parents, did okay in school, had friends... Normal kid stuff. Then one evening Grandma has a heart attack driving us back from the movies. I was asleep in the back seat, never even felt the car swerve or the SUV t-boning us a few seconds later. I'd gone straight from watching the Avengers to waking up in hospital with a broken arm and a few million bruises. Grandma and Grandpa weren't that lucky. They told me they'd died pretty much the moment the SUV rammed us which isn't a bad way to go, I suppose. I still miss them, even now. Of course, it didn't sink in until after the funeral that things weren't going to be the same, that I was a proper orphan this time around. And while they tried to track down any Aunts or Uncles I might have left, it was off to the Group Home for me. I didn't like that much, let me tell you, but they didn't have a foster family for me, so that's how it was. I was too old to really make friends with the younger kids, and the older kids didn't like me at all. I got bullied, I got picked on, I was pretty miserable for the first couple of months. But I learned... I learned fast. I learned how to run away, I learned how to hide and I learned how to stand up for myself. Not that I didn't go to bed with a fat lip every couple of days, but at least it felt like I was doing something about it. I learned how to get along, and that more than anything has been the most positive thing I've taken from that period of my life. I know, it was only a couple of years ago, but I can be proud of that at least, can't I? Requiscat In Pace Things didn't start getting properly weird until just after my thirteenth birthday. By then I'd been pretty much told nobody was going to be adopting me because I was too old, and not cute enough or special enough to stand a realistic chance. That sort of thing hurts at first, but in the end I made peace with it. Things had started to settle down for me in the Home, I didn't get picked on half as much as I was at first, and I'd even made a few friends. We got good food, school was okay and the staff was actually kind of nice to us, so... yeah, again, could have been much worse. I was hoping that maybe I'd get a nice foster family in a few months. All pretty normal stuff for a kid like me, you know? And then on August 23rd, 2015, I went to bed in Illinois and woke up in California. You know how it goes when you wake up. First thing you see is the ceiling. If you don't recognise the ceiling, or even see no ceiling at all, you know something's not right. In my case, I opened my eyes expecting to be in my room at the end of the hall on the second floor, just in time for breakfast, when instead I see the fading purple of sunrise in the strip of sky above me between two buildings. I'm still not entirely sure how that happened, except it happened to other people too, and even to entire buildings later on. I found out later what it was all about, some kind of apocalypse thing. Some power somewhere decided that the world really needed me, all of me, right then and there and was tired of waiting around for me to wander over. Typically, it didn't consider just asking. Karmic imperative, I tell you... Of course, back there in that alley, the last thing I was expecting was magic, that sort of stuff just didn't happen as far as I was concerned. Stuff you read about in Harry Potter, sure, but not something you expect to happen, and certainly not something you'd expect to happen to /you/. Likewise, the last thing you'd expect when you suddenly wake up halfway across the continent is someone going through your pockets. When I noticed, I must have startled the guy, must have sat up just a bit too fast. Maybe he was just jumpy, maybe he'd been transported just as I'd been and was just as confused. I don't know. What I do know is that he tried to grab my dad's dogtags and I reacted pretty much on pure instinct. I guess he must have just reacted on instinct too, because half a second later I had a knife in my chest. I remember thinking that maybe it should have hurt more than it did. I remember thinking that maybe just laying back down and playing dead wouldn't be a bad idea. And then, when I realised that I wouldn't have to play at being dead, I remember thinking about mom, dad, grandma and grandpa... how I'd get to see them again soon. On August 24th, 2015, at 6:35 in the morning, I died in an alley in San Francisco. Rise and Shine All the more surprisingly to me, and certainly to one very startled orderly, I woke up in the morgue on August 24th, 2015, 10:30 in the morning. It was an unfamiliar ceiling, but at least there was one, and they hadn't gotten around to putting me in a freezer yet. I can't tell you how glad I am that I didn't wake up in one of those steel boxes. Of course, at the time, I was pretty freaked out about having woken up at all. I jumped off the table, grabbed my stuff from an evidence bag and got out of there as fast as I could. I ran past the nearest alley and then hid in the next alley over, because even when I'm panicking I'm not stupid. First thing I did was check for the stab wound, except it was gone. It's only then I noticed that I was still wearing my dad's dogtags, and somehow that convinced me I wasn't dreaming this. I was alive, in San Francisco, when I should have been dead. The world around me felt... weird. Alive somehow, but more alive than I had ever felt it. Some people felt more alive than others as they walked by the alley. It's at that time I realised that I felt a lot more alive myself, as if I'd been asleep my entire life up to just then. It's been a crazy ride since then. Found out the hard way exactly what I am. Turns out condemned buildings are condemned for a reason, but I needed a place out of the rain and it didn't seem /that/ dangerous. Long story short? Electrocution is no fun. I could talk about starting to trust my instincts after that, about how I got drawn to a dusty storage building and found my sword, about vampires called Angel and a coven of witches that needed protecting, but truth of the matter is... it's hazy. Stuff has happened, I know it has, things I can kind of remember but grabbing the memory is like trying to see a single fish from the Presidio on a particularly foggy day in the Golden Gate. It ain't happening. I remember something about Fae, about a favor owed... about the world ending. Except the world is still here. I'm still here. There's something weird going on, and I'm going to find out What. And Why. Possibly even Whom, or How Many. When is probably out of the question, but I might get lucky. There has got to be people around here that know what's going on. Maybe they can use my help... or if I'm really being honest with myself, maybe I can get them to help me. |-| 'Ships= |-| Logs= Category:Character